


Before This Whole Life Passes Us By

by WolfSquish



Series: Pet Project [12]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AroAce Astoria Greengrass, Aromantic Draco Malfoy, Bisexual Harry Potter, Cliche, Enemies to Lovers, Gay Draco Malfoy, Implied/Referenced Cheating, M/M, Not Harry Potter and the Cursed Child Compliant, POV Male Character, POV Third Person, Polyamory, Queerplatonic Relationships, Valentine's Day, or references to them at least, queerplatonic draco/astoria
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-04
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:53:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24541900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WolfSquish/pseuds/WolfSquish
Summary: 25 years after the Battle of Hogwarts, a chance break in at the Daily Prophet puts Harry and Draco back in each other's lives.
Relationships: Astoria Greengrass & Draco Malfoy, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Series: Pet Project [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1663804
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> As always, thanks to ZakiSalem for reading this over for me!

Draco and Harry hadn’t really run into each other since the exhausted conversation the morning after the Battle of Hogwarts. Since then, they’d only really seen each other at Platform 9 ¾ when dropping off and picking up their children. 

Until a break in at the Prophet almost 25 years later, that was. 

Draco arrived about an hour before everyone else, as he normally would. He found the back door open and papers fluttering in the wind, as he normally wouldn’t. With a groan, he pulled out his wand and slowly checked out the entire place, ending his circle at his own office. Cold anger settled over him as he spotted that the vault with his employees’ wages had been taken. He allowed himself a good few minutes of cursing and screaming before pulling himself together and sending a message to the Ministry asking for an Auror to investigate, and after a moment’s thought, messages to his employees to give them the day off. 

As the icing on the cake, Potter was the one to respond. Perfect. It didn’t make sense for him to be the one to Draco though. He was decently certain they’d run a special edition on the Boy Who Lived making it to head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement not all that long ago. 

“Slow day at the office, Potter?” Draco drawled with a raised eyebrow, though Potter didn’t seem inclined to have any kind of conversation beyond what was needed for professionalism. 

Due to that, most of the process of Potter investigating went by smoothly and with minimal snarking involved. Draco idly trailed after Potter to keep an eye on things. He was mostly sure that Potter was competent but this was his reputation, and more importantly his employees’ livelihoods at stake and he refused to let either be at risk. He’d have to pay his wages out of pocket again, on top of never making a single knut off of the Prophet.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d suspect it was a Muggle.” Potter said as he finished his investigation and sat down at one of the desks in the general work room. He pulled out a pen to start to write his report and added an impression of the whole place he’d taken with his wand to the paper. “Whoever it was, they thought they’d be untouchable if they didn’t use magic, but we’ve picked up a few tricks from our work with Muggle police, so we’ll be able to get some more information soon.”

A part of Draco wondered if this was Potter’s way of trying to goad him, but he dismissed the thought immediately; Potter was far too direct for such games. 

“We’ll find who robbed you.” Potter added as he got to his feet while tapping his report to make a copy, which he handed to Draco. “You can expect an update as soon as we know more, or in a month at the latest.” He picked up his hat, tilting it toward Draco as he put it on, and left. Draco was left to deal with not getting answers and what Potter in his uniform was doing to his gut, twisting it in a way he’s successfully avoided for a long time.    
His employees didn’t notice anything about the break in other than the unexpected day off and they likely wouldn’t have caught on later on either if it hadn’t been for Potter showing up a week later to inform him that no new information had been discovered. And then the week after as well. Surely the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement had better things to do than hang about the offices of the Daily Prophet. Somehow Draco never managed to point this out to Potter even as January turned into February and Potter continued to report no changes. 

“Good afternoon, Mr Malfoy.” The fact that Potter had shown up this Tuesday as well gave Draco pause for a moment; it was Valentine’s Day and he struggled to think of a reason to explain why Potter had decided to spend his lunch break to come to the Prophet instead of having a meal out with his wife. He himself had been planning the lunch and dinner dates with his wife for that day since the end of the ones she’d planned last February, alternating as they had done since the year after they got married. 

The want for this habit had only increased after their conversation about who they were and what the nature of their relationship was. The word queerplatonic was one they would never have found on their own. Instead, a Muggle nurse had handed Astoria a pamphlet about it when the Healers had sent them to the hospital for Scorpius’ diabetes. That nurse still received a thank you package from them every year on the date they’d met. 

“Afternoon, Potter. Shouldn’t you be off romancing my employee?” Draco returned the greeting while attempting to put on an air of disinterest as he shuffled some papers on his desk. Never in his wildest, drunkest imaginations could he have thought that Potter would do what he did next; sink into the chair on the other side of his desk whilst choking back a sob.

For a few moments, Draco sat stunned behind his desk. Then he managed to conjure a kerchief he offered to Potter, utterly silent. What was the comment to make when one’s former enemy just showed up and started to cry anyway? 

So he fell back on etiquette and started them a pot of tea. Mother would be proud. “Here. Sugar, Milk?” He said as he floated a cup over to Potter while picking up his own. He tapped his foot uncomfortably while Potter pulled himself together enough to ask for two sugars. After adding the requested sugar, he stirred his tea in silent judgement and waited for Potter to come up with some sort of explanation for his bizarre behaviour. Potter had no such plans apparently as he just sat there and stared into his tea, the very picture of dejected misery. 

“I gave her the day off. She said she had something planned for you.” Draco eventually said in an attempt to test the waters, when the novelty of Potter quietly sniffling in his office had worn off. Evidently, it was the wrong thing to say as Potter’s shoulders shook with a fresh wave of tears. 

“Ah.” Draco said delicately while leaning back in his chair and sipping his tea. As he waited for the tears to slow again, he had an internal argument with himself; a Potter break up would be big news. But at the same time, the fact that Potter had come to him, of all people, was sitting in his office and weeping as if his world had ended, that meant something. He wasn’t sure what exactly though. 

“She didn’t come home last night.” Was the first thing Potter said that could vaguely be called an explanation, halfway through the second cup of tea. It just raised more questions for Draco. “I thought maybe it was a work thing, you know how many hours she’s been putting in here lately.” 

Draco didn’t know, actually. She’d been taking a lot of time off since the start of the year and honestly he’d been expecting the announcement of their fourth child any day now. To say he’d been caught off guard was an understatement. Again, he chose to remain silent though. The topic was far more delicate than he’d been anticipating and he didn’t know Potter anywhere near well enough to address it without being antagonistic, intentionally or otherwise. His mind wandered as he tried to think of a reply, instead imagining scenarios where he did know Potter well enough, and so he almost missed Potter’s words as he pulled himself together more. 

“Have you noticed anything? She spends so much of her time here.” Draco could only sigh as he shook his head.

“I haven’t. I’ve been under the impression she’s been spending a lot of time at home, actually.” He said softly. He had to fight a sigh of relief when Potter didn’t burst out into tears again, but instead just sighed and worried at his lip with his free hand. 

“I don’t know what to do now. We were supposed to meet for an early lunch but she never showed up for that either.” Potter said, his tone an endearing mix of whiny and miserable. There was nothing for Draco to do but roll his eyes and pull out a piece of parchment to inform Astoria he'd not make their lunch plans and he'd make it up to her in the evening. 

“Did you have reservations somewhere?” He asked as he folded the note and then raised an eyebrow. If his task was to rid Potter of the kicked puppy look then he'd prefer a change of scenery in the process. 

Potter looked delightfully caught off-guard; halfway ready to ramble about all the things he'd been thinking that had ultimately led him to crying in Draco's office and abruptly having to switch gears to processing that Draco apparently wanted ... to have lunch with him? 

“Uh, yeah, but-” He didn’t get the chance to say anything more as Draco sent off his message, got to his feet and fetched his coat from an old fashioned coat hanger by his office door.

“Come along, Potter, we don’t have all day.” Draco said, impatiently waiting by the door for Potter to get to his feet and vacate the office so he could lock it.

It was almost adorable, the way the great Harry Potter, boy who lived, auror of great renown and head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, tripped over his feet to get out the office. He blushed bright red and cleared his throat while Draco locked his office door. 

Part of Draco wondered if Potter was just naturally this clumsy or if it was caused by his worries about his wife. Another part of Draco, a part that he'd been content to let lie dormant ever since he'd married Astoria, liked to think that Potter was harboring a crush on him. It was a ridiculous fantasy, of course, but the thought stroked his ego enough to prevent him from commenting on the stumble. Nothing could stop him from raising his eyebrow in amusement though. 

They left the Daily Prophet together, and Draco's employees for once put their heads down to work instead of running over to discuss things with him. He idly wondered which of them would be brave enough to put an article on his desk about the rumoured affair he was having with Potter, which of course wouldn't be rumoured until an article about the non-existent affair was printed. 

Potter shook himself as they exited the building before taking the lead to his mystery restaurant. Some of the leadership qualities that people always gushed about coming through finally, Draco thought as he smirked to himself. He found that being around Potter when they weren’t at least trying to knock each other off their respective brooms wasn't actually all that bad. Of course Potter’s appearance wasn’t anything to scoff at either.

Draco wasn't the only one to sink into thoughts while they walked to a fancier restaurant than Draco had been expecting, and even when Draco resurfaced from his thoughts, he wasn't inclined to break the silence. All of this was new, and very interesting, and if Potter decided to stop going with it because he'd said something dumb, then he'd have to say goodbye to his break in monotony.

The waitress’ reaction when a Malfoy showed up to a reservation that said Potter was outright delicious. That alone made the whole exercise worth it. He'd savour the reaction for a good long while, and probably share it with Astoria as well; he was sure she'd enjoy it as well. 

“This will do, I suppose.” He said as they were seated. He was rather pleased to note the blubbering Potter from before had been whisked away by the crowd as Potter rolled his eyes at his words, but didn't rise to the bait. So not as hot-headed as he'd once been anymore, then. 

Draco smirked to himself, satisfied that they were on slightly more familiar territory with each other as they opened their menus to decide on their lunches. 

“What are you smirking about?” Potter asked suddenly as he looked over the edge of his menu with a sharp expression on his face. 

“It’s called a smile, Potter, you should try it sometime.” He replied, though he couldn’t deny that the fact that Potter had been paying close enough attention to him to even notice was all kinds of flustering. Conveniently he could hide behind his menu while he got his blush under control. 

On the other side of the table, Potter just huffed and shifted noisily in his seat. They sank into silence again until a waiter stopped by to take their orders and the menus. Draco leaned back and folded his hands across his stomach. He studied Potter with a tilt of his head, which made the man in question squirm after only a few moments. 

“What?” He asked after another minute of Draco taking in the details; the rumpled robes, the vividly green eyes, the inexpertly hidden bags beneath them, the stunning jawline, the tired slouch, the way his robes stretched across his chest as if they'd been made too small. 

“You look tired, Potter.” Draco concluded as he glanced away before tilting his head the other way. “When’s the last time you slept through the night?” His tone was neutral, almost kind. That didn't happen for just anyone, yet it wasn't as rare as some people liked to think. 

“I’m not here to talk about myself.” Potter said with a frown as he shifted in his seat again.

“No? Then why are you?” Draco asked with the same amused smirk back on his face with the addition of a raised eyebrow. “Why are you here if not to talk about your woes and why you have been finding excuses to drop by my place of employ for the past two months?”

Potter blushed, which was a new and rather delightful addition to his various reactions to Draco's words. At least, it was until the kicked puppy look from before returned. It wasn’t a good look for Potter, not at all.

“I came to ask you for evidence one way or the other for if my wife is cheating on me.” Potter said through gritted teeth. And well, that was one hell of a thing to go to a rival, past or present, for, wasn't it. 

“What makes you think she’d do that in the first place?” He asked as their drinks were delivered to the table. He supposed he could have taken a nicer approach, but from where he was sitting the very fact that Potter thought Ginny capable of cheating signified something else had broken a long time ago. 

It took Potter by surprise; he jerked back and almost spilled his drink in the process. Draco chose to just wait out the spluttering and indignation. 

“She’s not happy. Neither of us are, and we haven't been for a while.” Potter admitted finally, making Draco roll his eyes. After all they’d been through, the war they survived, Potter still believed in the fairy tale happy ending?The hero gets the girl and they live happily ever after without any work done on it? 

“I knew you were naive but I didn’t think it was this bad.” He commented before he could think better of it, or really think about it at all. Potter’s reaction did disappoint though. He expected him to yell or scream or at the very least spit some venom laced words in his direction. Instead he deflated even further and nodded. 

“I suppose you’re right. It was naive of me to think she and I would be happy together.” The defeated tone of Potter’s voice made Draco’s stomach turn. Potter wasn’t supposed to be this despondent, to lie down and let the world steamroller him . He was supposed to be defiant, to roar at the world until it molded to his will and cowered in fear of the next roar. 

Draco struggled to find the right words to reply, then paused to consider the possibility that Potter was playing some kind of mind game, but dismissed that almost instantly. A cold dread settled in the pit of his stomach while he frowned as he took a sip of his drink. 

“Are you happy? With… Astoria?” Potter asked tentatively, twiddling his thumbs while resting his elbows on the table. 

“She’s my best friend. I couldn’t imagine ever marrying any other woman.” He said honestly as he smiled to himself for a moment. He was reveling in the knowledge that Potter wouldn't pick up on the meaning behind his words, not that it would change anything if he did. No matter who he chose to sleep with, it wouldn't be cheating as he and Astoria had discussed the limits and boundaries of their marriage years ago. 

Potter nodded and looked down as he sank into thought. Draco let him as he continued to watch him and tried to think of ways to salvage what should have been amusing from the overwhelmingly morose. Potter quietly sipped his drink before looking backup at Draco with that same sharp look from before. It was honestly unsettling. 

“Why are  _ you _ here?” He asked in a suspicious tone while squinting at Draco, who rolled his eyes. 

“Potter, you’ve been moping around my office for months now. The way I see it either you come out with it all or I kick you out and I don't find out who stole my employees' wages. Plus, a reservation at a decent restaurant shouldn’t go to waste.” Draco stated matter of factly, as if all of that was obvious and Harry hadn't been paying attention if he hadn't come to the same conclusion. 

Potter blushed and this time it almost seemed like he fought a smile as he ducked his head. Draco didn’t get the chance to comment on it though; their food arrived in the form of plates floating to their places in front of them. 

“Bon appetit.” Draco murmured as he picked up his cutlery while Potter shook his head with a sigh. 

They were quiet and focused on their meals until Potter suddenly put down his cutlery with a clang. “Seriously, Malfoy. Why are you here? Is this funny to you, keeping my wife away for work almost 24/7 and making me believe that she’s cheating on me?”

Draco froze and had to remind himself that this was Potter's displeasure, and not the Dark Lord's as for a second he was back at Malfoy Manor. When his brain came back online he wondered where the hell Potter's question had come from and what kind of logic that even was. 

“I’ve been giving her a lot of time off recently.” He eventually said, after making a show of chewing and swallowing the bite he’d taken just before Potter’s outburst. “In fact I assumed we’d soon be printing the announcement of your vow renewal, or the birth of a fourth of your offspring.” He added before sipping his drink. He was gratified to see that Potter at least had the decency to look ashamed. 

“I suppose it would’ve been easier, wouldn’t it? If everything that led you to here was orchestrated by me, the petty bully doing his best to take your precious toy away from you?” Draco continued before breathing in through his teeth.“I apologise, that was uncalled for.” He murmured quietly before taking another bite. He'd hopefully be able to use it to wash away the venom that laced his tongue all of a sudden. 

It was a day of surprises though; Potter started to snicker quietly. At Draco's confused expression, it turned into a giggle. Draco frowned at being laughed at, yet found himself softly snickering as he watched Potter's mirth. Eventually Potter got himself back under control. “You haven’t changed one bit, Malfoy. You’re still a prick.” Potter said as he wiped some tears of laughter from his eyes without any animosity in his voice whatsoever. 

Draco smiled a rare, real smile at that for a moment before sipping his drink. “You have.” He commented as he carefully put down his glass again. When he looked back up, his regular smirk was back in place.

With a tilt of his head, Potter returned to his meal with a thoughtful expression. “I did." He agreed, surprising Draco yet again. "And I’m glad I did. The little boy you met at Madam Malkins wouldn’t have survived the war.” His tone was serious as he spoke. Draco resisted the urge to sit up a little straighter, though he of course had impeccable posture to begin with. Instead, he copied the tilt of Potter's head as he waited for him to continue. “You were ready for it, even then.” Draco wished Potter would stop talking then, but the man looked down with a sigh and went on. “Everyone who didn't know me always thought my life with the Dursleys had to be amazing. Everyone who did thought it was appalling. I think the same might be true for you, though in different ways.” 

All that hit entirely too close to home for Draco. His knuckles went white from how tightly he squeezed his cutlery as thoughts swirled around in his head. Damn Potter for broaching the subject at all. Those things weren’t spoken about; the people who didn’t know him would only care to use it against him and the people who did know him were mostly in the same boat. The last thing any of them needed was to rehash old, mostly forgotten pains. Potter was in a similar, awkward between, where it was talked about. Draco was entirely unprepared for the topic and so it took him a while for his brain to catch up enough to wonder how Potter of all people would notice.

Draco tried to find something to say, but ended up just eating in silence, his movements as nonchalant as he could manage, as if Potter hadn't just laid bare the most painfully guarded part of his past as easy as chatting about the weather. Thankfully, Potter seemed content to leave it at that and returned to eating a moment later. 

“I would like to actually talk to you about Ginny sometime soon though.” Potter said after he finished his meal. 

Draco finished as well before sighing at Potter's words. He leaned back in his chair and silently studied Potter while taking a deep breath. “Do you really think that’s a good idea, Potter?” He asked quietly as he made quick eye contact before looking away from the piercing look Potter gave him in return.

“Yes. Better to know so I can deal with it.” Potter said firmly, though luckily the earlier tears didn’t make another appearance as the subject was broached again. 

Draco just watched him for a few moments before eventually nodding. “Very well then. But not today. Regardless of what conclusion you’ll come to, I already sacrificed lunch with my wife today, I am not spending the rest of the day tearing down love to its bare components with you.” He said equally firmly before flagging their waiter for their plates and the dessert menu. “Your treat, of course.” He added as the waiter left with the plates and returned moments later with the requested menus.

Potter sputtered deliciously the entire time before sighing as he took the offered menu from the waiter as if giving in to his fate. “Why did you cancel your plans with the love of your life though?” Potter asked after a lengthy silence that had stretched them studying the menus and ordering desserts. 

The question left Draco with a bit of a conundrum; he hardly thought Astoria was the love of his life but explaining the ins and outs of his marriage to Potter wasn't an option. “You looked like you needed it.” Was what he eventually settled on. It said a little too much, perhaps, about him and who he was now, certainly more than he was willing to share. But it also was the truth. Potter  _ had _ looked like he needed it, like he'd been needing it for a long time. Like his friends hadn't been there for him while he'd needed them all along. 

Potter squinted at him suspiciously for a moment, as if trying to find the trick in his words the one time Draco hadn't put one in. “I did. Thank you.” He said slowly, as if realising something entirely different at the same time as their desserts arrived. 

Draco decided against calling attention to it for fear of accidentally laying more of his soul bare for Potter to unwittingly trample on. So he inclined his head in acknowledgement of the offered gratitude and ate his dessert while sinking deep into his thoughts. 

“So when do we talk about it?” Potter asked as they finished their desserts and they'd officially run out of ways to prolong their little outing any more. “I am not a fan of having to rely on others to decide what to do, so..." He added with a frown as if already reconsidering the decision to approach Draco for help. 

A snort left Draco that he deftly turned into a cough at one of the biggest understatements he'd ever heard. Relying on others, indeed. “I’ll have to consult my schedule but I’ll owl you some dates and we’ll go from there.” Draco said, not really a question, but not steamrollering Potter as he'd done earlier either. 

Potter thankfully agreed, and even had the audacity to look relieved about it. As if Draco would neglect to keep his word. 

The final surprise of the day for Draco came when Potter did in fact pay before they went their separate ways with a murmur of each other's last name. 


	2. Chapter 2

Things at the Prophet hadn’t gone the way Harry had expected them to. He hadn’t expected to cry in front of Malfoy for one, and he sure as hell hadn’t expected him to try to comfort him, let alone actually succeed. 

He felt even more off-kilter as he left the restaurant than he’d done when he entered Malfoy’s office, when his sole goal had been to determine whether or not his wife was cheating on him. 

Instead he’d ended up having lunch with him and had enjoyed himself more than he was able to remember doing in the past five years. More than he could have had he gone to the restaurant with Ginny, if he was being completely honest. 

Coming home was like a cold shower.

The house was quiet, as it had been all week. There were no sounds of cooking, or rather cursing the hob for not doing as Ginny wanted, no television shows playing, no radio music filling the empty spaces. No arguing children either; Albus and Lily were at Hogwarts and James was working at some hotel in Bulgaria. It was just him and Ginny now, and she wasn’t around a lot, which Harry had been okay with when he’d still believed that she was working a lot. When he could still tell himself that was what was going on. 

But Malfoy had painted a different picture, one where she’d actually been working less, not more. One where they looked to be going strong. 

He seethed in pure jealousy of Malfoy as he changed out of his work clothes. Why did the school bully turned Death Eater get his happy ever after while the Chosen One ended up in an unhappy marriage, ended up being cheated on?

Harry groaned as he rubbed at his forehead and sank deeper into the dark, angry thoughts. Without paying attention, he fixed himself some toast for dinner, the only thing he could feasibly make just then. He wasn’t too hungry anyway, and getting delivery would mean talking to people. 

Lacklustre dinner over and done with, he moved to the living room where he sat in the dark with a tumbler of firewhiskey to wait for his wife to come home. 

It was strangely reminiscent of when he’d done a similar thing whenever one of his kids snuck out. Then he’d been filled with a mixture of fear that something had happened and disappointment that they’d snuck out at all. Now he was filled with a brooding, simmering sort of anger that was fuelled by every sip of firewhiskey, every hour that passed without an appearance from Ginny.

He fell asleep there, awkwardly slumped in his chair without a trace of Ginny in two days. 

His mood didn’t improve with sleep. When he woke up, he dragged himself into the shower, his head pounding from the alcohol and a crick in his neck from the awkward sleeping position. 

A cleaning charm was all he could manage to do for his work robes before he got dressed in them again, feeling rather old more now than ever before. 

He hopefully checked the house for signs that Ginny had been home, but their bed wasn’t slept on, her favourite mug sat unused in a cupboard and her coat was still missing. His mood darkened further with each sign that she’d not been in at all. He locked up and apparated to work, hoping for a quiet day where he could just work on paperwork and not have to deal with people too much.

Of course that wasn’t what was happening at all. His paperwork had been neatly done by an eager junior auror, and instead there was already a line at his office of people needing his attention. And every single one of them seemed hellbent on making his day as tedious and infuriating as it could possibly be. 

By the time lunch rolled around, he was seriously debating simply going home. The only thing that had kept him at work was how uninviting a thought sitting in that empty house and brooding in his dark thoughts was.

Instead, he ran into Hermione on one of her rare breaks and so they sat down to eat lunch together. He treasured what time he could spend with the busier of his best friends, now even more than usual. 

That appreciation lessened when it took her all of two seconds to spot that something was going on with him, probably because he hadn’t been able to pay attention to anything she’d been saying.

“Honestly, Harry, where is your head? You’ve not even managed to grunt in the right places once today.” She said after poking him lightly with her chopsticks to get his attention.

Harry sighed and shook his head. “Nothing, today’s just been a long week.” He reassured her as he moved a bit of lettuce from one side of his plate to the other. His answer clearly didn’t impress Hermione.

“Harry…” She sighed and rubbed at her temples. “We’re worried about you. You don’t return calls, you squeeze out of family dinners and when we do see you, you barely talk to us.” Her voice wobbled just a little bit near the end, as if to underscore just how worried she was. 

A stab of guilt stabbed through Harry as it dawned on him just what she was worried about. “No!” He said just a little too loudly, making most of the Ministry stare at them as if trying to figure out if they needed to be panicking. 

Hermione pointedly picked up a piece of sushi and ate it, as if she wasn’t suddenly the centre of attention.

“Mione, it’s nothing like that.” Harry said quietly as most of the people having lunch in the cafeteria returned to their own lunches. “Things are just weird right now, is all. But I promise you that’s it.” 

Hermione had sunk her teeth into it, though, so his attempts to continue to reassure her were, and would continue to be, unsuccessful. 

“Okay. You’ll come over for dinner tonight with me and Ron then. We’ll have a moaning party.” She squeezed his hand before checking her watch and cursing softly. “We’ll talk tonight, even if I have to drag you through the floo!” She threatened as she walked away with a wave.

“You just mind your language, Minister!” He called after her with a laugh, though he now felt impossibly worse than he had when he’d gone for lunch. 

Somehow, he managed to get through the day without yelling at anyone. The simple fact that he’d wanted to yell at all was something he was beating himself up over. 

He locked up his office while mentally already in the long, hot shower he was going to take once he got home, and cautiously looking forward to the letter from Malfoy that may or may not be there waiting for him once he got home.

He hadn’t even made it to the lifts yet though as Ron caught up with him. It was obvious he’d been hanging around waiting for Harry; normally he went home hours before Harry did. No doubt Hermione had let him know to make sure Harry wouldn’t go home sneakily. 

Ron crossed his arms in a way that reminded Harry a lot of Mrs Weasley, more every time he saw Ron do it, and more every year they aged. Normally, he’d have teased him for it, but now he just felt too bad to even do that. 

“Come on mate, I just want to go home.” Harry said with a sigh as he rubbed at his forehead. 

“Yeah, Mione said.” Ron said with a nod as they stepped into the lift. “So she’s at yours, cooking with Ginny so you can have a comfy night in.” 

Harry just picked a spot to stare at as the lift moved, seemingly at a snail’s pace, though he knew that the lifts worked at the same speed always. 

They moved through the atrium in a hurry; neither was especially eager to spend even a second longer than necessary in the space that held a lot of bad memories, especially when it was deserted and dark like it was now. 

Still, the dinner was sure to be a disaster, so Harry turned to face Ron just before they reached the fireplaces. “Please just go home. I’ve had a crap day, I just want to shower and sleep.” It wouldn’t help mitigate his friends’ concern, but it was the truth. And he’d rather argue about it in this place that he already associated with bad things than in the home he’d made for himself, or even worse, to go through dinner with three of his favourite people on the planet. 

“Not a chance, mate.” Ron said with a sympathetic clap to his shoulder before pushing him to the fireplace. Harry grudgingly stepped in and called out his address.

As soon as he stepped through to his living room, he made a beeline for the firewhiskey, but Ron steered him towards the kitchen instead. 

It was filled with the sounds of cooking and Ginny and Hermione’s bickering about the cooking in between bits of gossip and laughter. 

Even a month ago, Harry’s heart would have swelled with the feeling of being a part of a family, his own family. Something inside him would have settled and he’d have jumped in. Now it just reawakened his anger. Ginny hadn’t been home in three days and had stood him up on their Valentine’s date and there she was, as if none of that had happened. As if every bit of his mood lately hadn’t been directly her fault. 

He couldn’t think of a single thing to say to her, so he muttered a ‘hello’ in the general direction of the women and moved to grab himself and Ron a glass of wine from the open bottle on the countertop. 

The exchanged glance between Ron and Hermione was no more subtle than it had been 25 years ago. Harry having no clue what to do about it hadn’t changed either. 

“Let’s eat.” Ginny said, having missed the entire thing as she’d been focused on trying to do the recipe the way Mrs Weasley had taught her, the right way, thank you very much. 

Ron and Harry moved to finish setting the table that Ginny and Hermione had started before the bickering began. Meanwhile their wives directed food to the table.

They all sat down and for a while everything was focused on the food; the people, the conversation, the general mood. Harry almost started to believe he’d be able to get through the evening without needing to lie to his best friends in order to protect his wife, but that went down the drain with their leftovers as the table was cleared and Hermione cleared her throat the way she did when she was about to launch into a rehearsed speech.

“Harry, we love you. All of us, including our shared and extended family who aren’t here right now. All of us. And right now, that means we’re worried about you. You’re pulling away from us, not spending time with any of us except for at work. You’re retreating into yourself the way you did during the last battle, before you walked out into the forest. And we get it, it’s been 25 years, and everyone is talking about it, calling our attention to it and making it impossible to try to keep going on with our normal lives. But we’re-  _ I’m scared for you _ .” 

She took a deep breath as Ron squeezed her hand. Ginny had just nodded along and it dawned on Harry then that she’d been aware of what Hermione was going to say. 

“We want to be there for you, Harry, but you have to let us or we can’t.” Ginny reached for his hand, but he moved it out of her reach. He wanted to shake his head at her, but he knew that Hermione would think it a reaction to her words and not Ginny’s action.

The words would have been touching any other moment, would have been humbling and made him feel loved. As soon as Ginny tried to take his hand that all washed away to be replaced with rage. How dare she pretend to be worried about him when she was the only reason he was feeling bad to begin with?

“Mione, I love you, I really do, but you don’t know what’s going on and this isn’t helping.” He said through clenched teeth without looking at anyone. “Nothing’s going on, I’m just really tired because I haven’t been sleeping well.” He added as he looked up, though Ron was the only one he actually managed to make eye contact with. 

Ginny’s chair scraped over the floor loudly as she got to her feet. “Liar.” She all but hissed at him before walking out of the kitchen. 

Despite being sure she was cheating on him, Harry felt guilt well up inside him. He’d hurt her deeply, but at the same time what was he meant to do? He couldn’t even attempt to talk to her about anything; she wasn’t ever there, and he didn’t think that confronting her in front of her brother and sister in law was a great idea either. 

He squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed at his forehead. “Can you guys please just butt out?” His voice cracked slightly as he gave up trying to pretend that things were okay. He clearly didn’t have any believable excuses to give them, wasn’t a good enough actor to put on a sunshine and roses charade, and he didn’t think he could lie for Ginny, or even knew that he wanted to try to. 

Ron and Hermioned exchanged another glance before Ron got to his feet. “I’ll go check up on her.” He promised as he left to follow Ginny, stopping to squeeze Harry’s shoulder as he passed him by. 

“We’re not going to butt out, Harry. We butted out when George… That’s not happening again.” Hermione said firmly as Ron left, though her voice wavered slightly as she referenced what happened with George.

Harry flinched at that, the hit not landing any more softly now that he heard it for the second time that day. He shook his head in just as much denial as he had before. “I told you, and I wasn’t lying, it’s nothing like that. Really. We all promised we’d ask for help, from each other or a professional, if we ever even vaguely thought we were headed that way.” His voice took on a pleading tone as he finally made eye contact with her. “Look, I get that you’re worried, but if I tell you what’s going on, you can’t tell anyone.  _ Especially _ not Ron.” Harry hated everything about that; hated even considering to talk about Ginny behind her back let alone actually doing it, hated keeping secrets from Ron, and hated telling only Hermione and asking her to keep secrets from their mutual best friend, and her husband to boot. But it was the only way to avoid another round of sessions with his therapist. 

He’d done the whole therapy thing, and while he couldn’t, wouldn’t, and didn’t deny that it had helped, he’d also hated it with every fibre of his being and if he could avoid a repeat, he would. 

Hermione nodded her promise, and Harry had known her long enough to know she was simply appeasing him. “I’m serious.” He pushed softly.

“Okay. I won’t tell anyone.” She promised with an open expression. Now he just actually had to say it, which was easier said than done, pun fully intended. He’d spent so long bottling it up. 

“Ginny’s... “ He sighed and rubbed at his forehead. He couldn’t blurt it out the way he’d done at the Prophet; Hermione actually cared about Ginny on a personal level. “She’s been lying to me, and has been for a while. She missed our date yesterday without so much as an owl to say ‘sorry can’t make it’.” Harry paused to debate on whether or not to tell Hermione about his visit to the Prophet. “So I stopped by the Prophet, hoping that she’d just gotten caught up in work, but she wasn’t there either. Malfoy spotted me, we talked for a bit about Ginny. He was completely shocked when I asked about all the extra time she’s been putting in, told me that she’d been taking a lot of time off instead. Said he thought we’d soon announce we’re having another child.”

Hermione opened her mouth to say something as he paused for a breath, but he wasn’t done and held up a hand to ask her to wait for him to finish.

“She hasn’t been talking to me, and when she has it’s been about her artist friend and- I thought Dean and Seamus were happy together but apparently not, because I don’t know who else she could be talking about that she’d avoid naming other than her ex.” He’d been sure he had no more tears left for the week after the embarrassing display at the Prophet, but apparently not; tears welled up and leaked from his eyes as he finally laid it all bare for someone who might actually know more. 

Hermione hugged him tight with a mix of sympathy and pity on her face as silent tears streamed down his cheeks. He hadn’t even noticed her getting up, he thought vaguely, and then it started to sink in that she thought he was overreacting. That was fine, he didn’t need her to believe him. He did need less pressure to be sociable and pretend this wasn’t happening though.

“Mione, I love you. But I need you to let this go, okay? You’re just adding more pressure. I have no idea how to deal with this, and everything else, and having you, and our family, sink your collective teeth into it won’t help any.” He squeezed her tightly before pulling away from the hug to watch her silently process what he’d just said. 

She chewed on her lip long enough that he was thinking about saying something to make her stop before she chewed it clean off before she finally nodded.

“Okay. But then you need to stop pushing us all away. Return our calls, come to dinner at the Burrow, you hear me? You don’t have to be happy, but be  _ there _ .” She said firmly with an almost motherly pat to his cheek. “It’ll all work out, you’ll see.” 

Her reassurance didn’t convince him, but he was left to process things on his own in the kitchen as she left to chat with Ron and Ginny. He appreciated her giving him the space to wipe his face and process as he started to load up the dishwasher, which he knew from experience would not be an easy task with Hermione and Ginny cooking. Hermione and Ron stuck their heads into the kitchen to say goodbye and then it was just him and Ginny in the house again. 

He was setting some burnt pots to soak in the sink when Ginny came in and moved to rub the tension out of his shoulders. Her touch made them tense even more and he shrugged her off. “Don’t.” He managed, sounding weary. 

“I’ll finish, you sound like you’re exhausted.” She’d know if he was if she’d been around at all recently. Harry sighed and pressed an automatic kiss to her temple while quietly seething inside.

The fact they hadn’t had a fight just now, that she’d dropped it, told him she was cheating, lying, hiding something. She always had it out with him as soon as she knew there was a problem at all. “I’ll be up soon.” Ginny told him over her shoulder.

He just grunted in reply as he left the room and headed up the stairs. He really wanted to believe what everyone was telling him, wanted to point out to himself that Malfoy agreeing with everyone else was a sign that he really was misjudging the situation, which was a shock in and of itself. 

He wanted to believe that she was pregnant or something like that and was just being careful. It felt like lying to himself, and that wasn’t something he could consciously do. 

So he took the shower he’d so desperately wanted and went to bed. When Ginny joined him, he pretended to already be asleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi yes I still live. Don't worry, I have things planned and written ;)


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